Okay Is Wonderful
by thatenchantedplace
Summary: LBD Universe: She blows into Los Angeles on a Santa Ana wind.
1. Chapter 1

She blows into Los Angeles on a Santa Ana wind, which gives Jane a migraine and keeps Bing at the hospital for hours after his shift ends. The dust unsettles the city; the summer heat laces the blood and years later she will praise it for seeping into her mentality, tossing her from job to job until her restless nature returns her to a classroom.

It is Will who suggests teaching when she owns up to not liking television. She adores Los Angeles for the stories that lie waiting underneath its glossy surface. Here is the barista who left home with stars in her eyes; there is the nanny who longs for home in the Midwest but has a script in her pocket and a belief in waiting out fate.

These are not the kind of stories Lydia deals with on camera. She has never quite felt the same in front of a lens since the incident and wouldn't have taken the job had she not wanted to leave home so badly. A job meant independence, responsibility, maturity. A means to channel her...energy. For the same reasons she is ill at ease in her big sister's spare room. Bing and Jane are anxious to look after her so soon after what has become known as the "incident", but she resists, finds an apartment that isn't too shabby and learns to balance a chequebook.

Her pay check from the production company relies partly on her sieving through the debris of the lives of those who are foolish and narcissistic. It is not her job to interview Oscar winners. Instead she serves vengeance to the jilted ex girlfriend whom her bosses will label as trailer park trash. The day a tape of an all too familiar variety leaks, this one pertaining to a model the media gleefully abhors as "low rent", she quits. It is infuriating how a blue eyed phantom can dictate her life. She runs to avoid his ruining her. She resigns to avoid the thought of his face, his lips, ghosting through her memory. Lydia Bennet has wasted enough time on him.

She surprises Lizzie for a weekend visit and waits for her brother in law (in waiting) to deduce the problem.

"How's the job?"

"It's a little...well, you guys watch me right?" It is meant as a joke; she gapes at his nod.

"Here and there. We try but your sister gets a little annoyed at how they...how they treat you. On the camera."

"You mean how they objectify me to keep the attention of male viewers?" She beats him to the chin tuck, giggling at his raised eyebrows. If nothing else, she is glad the debacle brought her a brother or two.

"Something like that. Lydia, I hope you know that you have more to offer the world than just a pretty face." He chucks her under the chin and suggests teaching. This then is how her future is decided.


	2. Chapter 2

There are no metal detectors in her school, but there are drug checks. Los Angeles is a paradoxical city and although the tales of guns and violence in classrooms in the next zip code remind her how lucky she is, the cruel irreverence of her wealthy students irks her. There is an art to teaching that has to be acquired; she brushes off the flirting of male students and between conjugating various Spanish verbs establishes herself as "strict but cool". She likes this. It allows her to pretend to be Professor McGonagall whilst pacing between desks.

But she is no John Keating. She has bad days where she loses her cool and considers throwing the towel in but the truth is that she is suited to teaching. Suited to helping underachieving kids aspire because she remembers when she too was a teenager who chose not to care instead of caring too much. When advice is sought she gives it, although her own life is barely in order. She learns to become the shoulder she sorely missed.

Everyone agrees that she is okay. She goes along with this.

There are no tangible consequences from her misguided romance. This she is grateful for; it is easier for others to pretend that it never happened, which in turn, makes it easier for her to smile. Her family would happily rewrite history for her but they all know that it is her soul which bore the brunt of the damage.

She allows her class to spend a hot afternoon watching a badly dubbed copy of The Great Gatsby. English Lit is not her subject but she knows enough to wax lyrical about the absurdity and the ideal of the American Dream when asked, even though talking of dreams and hope causes her to choke up. She can only hope that her students fail to notice this.

That night her subconscious transposes Leo Dicaprio's face onto another handsome blonde and she wakes up drenched in sweat.

On nights like these she makes herself a cup of tea – a warm blend of masala chai and ginger works best for her - and munches on a snickerdoodle. It is how she keeps her sisters close. If nothing else the incident teaches her to appreciate the value of small things. Hot drinks, long baths, dozing off whilst listening to her sisters' quiet murmurs; a combination of otherwise insignificant details saw her through. The unconditional love of others was too big a concept to grasp otherwise.

Gradually she becomes used to her own company. Begins to learn herself inside out in the darkness of her own apartment. Lydia Bennet likes dark chocolate and cherries. She likes the burn of vodka in the back of her throat but purposefully limits herself when drinking. She likes obnoxiously loud music and the gloss of perfection Los Angeles is covered in. She likes the beach but is a terrible surfer. She likes her students.

Hannah reminds her of herself and this is probably why she gets so many detentions and lectures. (She has not grown up with Lizzie for nothing.) Hannah is a bright girl who is too afraid of failure to even try. This is repeated to her by various colleagues, none of whom seem particularly bothered by this state of mind. Lydia wonders if it is karma from the misery of her own teachers that has put the stubborn into this girl.

"That's it I'm calling your mother." To call the essay subpar would be a kindness.

"My mom's in Hawaii." Her eyebrows shot up.

"Excuse me?"

"What? My maid's staying with me. Mom's on holiday."

"In February?"

"Only middle class people take summer holidays, am I right?" The irrepressible grin is ignored. Lydia is aware that there is no dad on the scene. A bit of illicit digging in the files of the school councillor turns up an elder brother's name.

"What's she done now?" It is the first time in a long time she has found anyone attractive. Michael, call me Mike, has hair the changeable colour of a russet autumnal leaf and his face is freckled. She is oddly tense; parental figures are not supposed to be young.

Nor are they supposed to listen. Could men really listen like that? With thoughtful expressions and the occasional nod? She is on autopilot, putting on the best and breeziest version of herself. It seems an eternity to her as she meticulously details the problems with classwork, homework and attitude. She dares to mention the mother in as questioning a tone as she can muster. He winces. She wonders if she has blown it but then their limbs brush as they rise at the end of the session and all coherent thought flies out of the window.

He asks for her number. Tentatively. Which strikes her as odd for such a confident person.

And then she hesitates.

It isn't that she doesn't want to; boy does she want to. But she is only okay. Nothing more. She has no idea if that will ever change but the idea of another relationship is alien to her. Her attempts to articulate this fall by the wayside when he interrupts.

"Hey, Lydia. It's fine. I get it." He leaves a card on her desk anyway. "I'm glad Hannah has such a," he casts around "an energetic teacher."

There is something about him that she cannot quite place but she pockets his card anyway.

For the future. If she squints, she can just about imagine one.


	3. Chapter 3

Her early morning trips to the supermarket help her understand her mother better than ever before. Only the profoundly tired could consider groceries before dawn. It should therefore be no surprise that she runs into George in the drinks aisle.

It should not be a surprise, but it is. She has not seen him since that night. She hasn't heard of him since Gigi and Will aptly destroyed the site. She has thought of him often. The sluggish light of recognition that sparks his eyes as he sees her informs Lydia that the sentiment is, as ever, unrequited. She does not constitute even the occasional thought.

"Lydia! Hey long time no see." He has covered the paces between them and she wonders at his appearance. He has gone grey at the edges.

"George."

If this were a scene shot down the road at the Paramount Lot she would scream at him until his earlobes imploded. She would dismember him and shout at him and access all her legitimate fury. And yet. She has moved on.

"Oh. You're still mad huh? Honestly it wasn-"

"Stop. I don't want to hear it. It's not like I'm going to believe you anyway." She is not angry, simply exhausted. He is buying cheap beer; she reaches past and decides to treat herself with a bottle of red. She is not quite indifferent, though she would like to be. She hopes she appears that way. Mainly she is consumed by pity for a man as broken as him. He watches her walk away and she uses the sterile setting for a parting shot.

"You know what? I'm glad I bumped into you, you douchebag. Enjoy your beer." Her energy, Will once told her by way of an apology, was a precious commodity. No more time is to be spared for George Wickham, a sentiment that Gigi, over Skype, wholly agrees with. Life would take care of breaking George as badly as he'd broken the two of them.

It strikes her as ironic that Lizzie and Darcy want a small intimate wedding.

"Y'all have macked for the entire internet. Don't you think it's a little late-"

"That was for my thesis."

"Your thesis. Of course." Lizzie rolls her eyes.

"Will have you called Catherine yet? Will?"

"I'm getting round to it."

"William Darcy!"

"I invited Aunt Annabel!"

"Wait, you have another aunt?" Lydia groaned. "I'll have to rearrange the seating now!"

"I'm sorry. Her two kids are coming as well. Actually the son's a groomsman – he's walking you up the aisle. Lizzie, I promise I will call Catherine."

"Now." A phone is lobbed across the room and her sister's fiancé retreats.

"Why are you inviting that...well...that woman?"

"He doesn't have much family." Lizzie's face softens even when surrounded by lists and samples. "He can't lose that over a girl."

"Wow you guys are corny. But I'm so happy for you." She is enveloped in a slim pair of arms before she has finished speaking.

"I love you."

"Yeah. I know."

The wedding is quiet, small and achingly beautiful. The day before Will introduces her to his cousins.

"I believe you know Hannah." His smirk reminds her of Gigi.

Mike smiles at her; she can see her pale red haired form reflected in his eyes. There are no fireworks. There is not even a love story. But there is potential. She can see the future. In fact, she has been able to for quite a while; a cute boy is only a bonus.

"Hey Darce?"

"Happy?"

"Yes. Yes I am."

Perhaps, she thinks, the wind has changed once more.


End file.
